Je T'aime, Pepito
by UniqaChica
Summary: Madeline fic.  Years later, after everyone has up and gone, Madeline writes a letter to her favorite boy next door.
1. Bonjour

(A/N: Not to drag you away from my other "Madeline" fic; I just have inspiration coming from all different directions. In any case, enjoy!)

Summary: Years later, after everyone has up and gone, Madeline writes a letter to her favorite boy next door.

Disclaimer: Like "The Wizard of Oz", I'm not even sure I would want to own "Madeline". I would be too afraid I would destroy everyone's childhood memories. : / THAT would be très scary. I'll just leave it to Ludwig Bemelmans, if that's all right with you.

Je T'aime, Pepito

A Madeline Fanfic

by Jill Diamond

Dear Pepito,

_Bonjour, _dear friend. Remember me? I'm the little redhead girl you used to live next door to. How many years has it been? Too many to count, that's for sure.

There is a reason that I'm writing you this letter. There's something that I need to tell you. Something that I've been meaning to tell you for a long time, but never had the courage. Ha. Listen to me. The little daredevil who wasn't even afraid of the tiger at the zoo not having the courage. It sounds rather silly, doesn't it? I haven't quite been able to make sense of it myself.

But, Pepito, what I'm trying so desperately to tell you is that I love you. No, not even that – I'm _in love _with you. I have felt this way for far too long. I wanted to tell you this years ago, but life kept getting in the way. First you moved away, and then I moved away, and everyone just lost touch, and...I'm glad I decided to write a letter instead of say all this to you in person. That may seem mean, but if I told you all this myself, I probably wouldn't be able to form a decent sentence. This whole thing is just too complicated, and I would get lost in your dark, Spanish eyes and chicken out.

Do you remember those breezy spring days when you would jump over the wall in between our houses, and we would play together with the other girls? Or in the winter out on the pond, when you and I would have skating races? Sometimes, I wish things could have stayed like that forever. Just me, Miss Clavel, my friends, Genevieve, and you. Everything was just our little world and nothing interfered. What I would give just to see the Bad Hat peeking over the wall again. What I would give to see your mischievous smile. To see that handsome sparkle in your eyes. To see _you_, Pepito.

Oh, that day you moved away. That's when everything started tumbling down. Curse your father for having such a capricious position. I still remember how my heart felt when you said goodbye and it broke. That sad face you wore and the tears that fell on your cheek are forever etched into me like my appendicitis scar. When you pulled me close for a hug, and told me you would remember me, the world stopped for just a second, and there was nothing except you and me. Did it stop for you as well? Did you feel the same? Did you feel my mutual tears on your shoulder that I made such an effort to hide, as I felt yours on my shoulder? Did you keep your promise and remember me? Because not a day goes by where I don't think of you and how much I wish I had had more time with you.

I realize that you probably have a beautiful wife, or at least a girlfriend, but I needed to tell you and get this off my chest. I am sorry, Pepito, _ma chére_, but you had to know. Believe me, I have tried to make myself realize that it could never work between us anymore. I have tried to find other men. But whenever I am with them, positively everything reminds me of you. Sometimes I even hear your voice as a little boy in the back of my mind, just saying little innocent things but always cutting me quick to the core. I will never forget the night when I was out with a man, and the younger you said, "You are my _un verdadero amiga_, Madeline, my one true friend", and I broke out into tears then and there. The man I was with didn't have the faintest idea what I was crying about, and I refused to tell him when he asked me, so he just took me home.

I am sorry. I realize probably now see the stains from my tears on the paper. Whenever I think I have the most control over my emotions, that is usually when I have the least amount of control. _C'est la vie_, I suppose.

Your friend,

Madeline

(A/N: I really wanted this to be longer, but... IDK. I may possibly write Pepito's reply, if you want me to. *blushes* I think I'm getting into this couple waaay too much! Anyway, thanks! And remember to give feedback and review! _Au revoir! _Oh, and ALL HAIL GOOGLE TRANSLATE! This fic probably would suck heavily if it were not for that. ^^)


	2. Angel of the Past

(A/N: *shakes head* You people. _You people. _You got me roped into writing Pepito's reply...or whatever this is. And I'm already having thoughts for a third chapter! You little trolls! Not like I'm unhappy, but it's the principle of the thing! And I will say that I am working on a new Madeline fic (which will be multi-chap), and also a Madeline project, but I'm not sure it falls under fan fiction. Anyway, read on, trolls. *goes back to jammin' along with the A*Teens*)

~Chapter Two~

Pepito did not dare blink. He read every sentence, every word, every letter, every punctuation mark with the utmost concentration. His erratic heartbeat increased the labor rate of his lungs. The chair in which he sat seemed to swallow him as he sank down with every passing minute. Before he was laying flat on his back, he righted himself again, but refusing to lose his place. After his eyes grazed over the signature, he was dizzy near to the point of faint, and he held the paper against his chest, as if that would somehow calm the constant thudding there. Was it him, or did the temperature just jump up ten degrees? He took his time to convince himself that it wasn't him before he pulled the paper to eye level once more. His argument seemed to grow weaker and weaker as he read the letter for a second time.

Madeline.

_Madeline._

She was correct, it _had _been too long since they had seen each other, or even talked. Pepito couldn't remember exactly how many years it had been, but he did remember the last time he saw her – the day he moved away – in nauseating detail. She wore her yellow dress, and the ribbon sprouting from her hat seemed to droop a little lower to the ground than usual. He remembered her hands around his neck as his were around her back, trying to wrap as much of the girl as humanly possible into his arms. He remembered how he mentally scolded himself for letting those two or three tears drop from his eyes, but now realized that two or three tears meant a lot between them. Especially now. He gingerly grazed his thumb over the smeared, but still legible handwriting near the bottom right corner.

_One true friend._

Heaven knew he meant those words, even though he never said them, and so much more like them. But the bravest girl he ever knew had managed to beat him to the three words he had attempted so many times to speak before the worst day of his life.

As he heard his front door open, he clutched the letter against his heart once again. Why, he did not know, but he was reminded of the reason when he saw the tall blond figure whowas coming through the door.

"Hi, sweetie. What are you reading?"

"Bill," he announced simply as his girlfriend busied herself with her reflection in the foyer mirror, reinforcing her curls with the palms of her hands. As a child, he had perfected the art of lying, and though he regretted it ever since _she _reformed him, it came in handy every now and then.

"How much do we owe?"

His mind raced. At this moment it wasn't the letter he was holding that made his heart thump.

"Not much."

"Oh, lovely. Now I can go shopping with Denise tomorrow."

Pepito mentally cursed himself. This woman was going to drive him bankrupt. But what could he do? If he had told her the opposite, she would have made a beeline for the paper he held captive to accuse the bank tellers of mental disease, only to discover it wasn't a bill at all.

Without even so much as an air kiss in his general direction, she made her way upstairs, with Pepito watching her as she went. After the last of her disappeared, he jumped up to his desk and, before he could think, started writing his reply.

(A/N: Ha ha! Cliffhanger! Evil little me.)


	3. Mi Amiga

~Chapter Three~

Madeline stood at her window, sipping her tea. Her mind was strangely calm. Her eyes were towards the sleepy Paris morning that lay out before her, but she wasn't really seeing it. Just a few straw rays of AM sunlight poked through her winter daydream.

"_Come on, Madeline! I'll race you!"_

"_Oh, no you don't! Get back here!"_

_A much younger Madeline bolted from where she stood on the frozen pond, constantly moving her legs and trying to keep up with Pepito's increasing speed. Before he had come along, she was the fastest one on the ice, and now the title was constantly switched between them. Her wooly scarf flapped wildly behind her as she came up close on his left side, giving him a quick smile before overtaking him. Pepito only returned her smile and flicked his feet quicker against the icy pond, trying to catch up._

_The two friends bobbed and weaved to avoid colliding with Chloe and Nicole, but only collided with _each other_ on the other side. They flailed their limbs like wild chickens before plopping down hard on the ice, Madeline on her bottom and Pepito on his stomach. His signature hat flew from his head and landed a few feet in front of them. Madeline simply brushed herself off before rising again and skating over to retrieve it. She flicked the red ball hanging from the brim with her finger affectionately and smiled secretly to herself. Then she skated back to her Spanish friend and placed it gently on his crown._

"_You lost your hat, Pepito," she teased._

_From his place down on the ground, Pepito gave her a quick smirk, but then it somehow morphed into a genuine smile. Madeline reached for his hand and pulled him upright again. Then, with one hand still clasping his, she led him around the perimeter of the pond once again. This time, at a decent pace._

The older Madeline was broken from her memory by the knock on the door. But before she could assure her caller that it wasn't locked, something slipped through the mail slot, and she heard footsteps and a merry whistle grow more distant.

The redhead carefully set her tea mug on the coffee table before she crouched down over her doormat to review the mail. There was but one letter. There was no name on the return address, but Madeline still recognized the street number. She remembered the quick wave of heat that flowed through her body when she had found it printed in the phone book.

She righted herself, her eyes not once straying from the envelope. She took her time in breaking the glue seal, making sure not to rip the flap in the tiniest way. She noticed her hand was shaking when she tried to pull out the letter, so she paused and breathed heavily before trying a second time, slower and smoother.

It was her letter. It was the letter that she had written. It was her words in her handwriting. Madeline's eyes knitted in confusion, but then she turned it over, and her lips formed a small "o" of comprehension.

His penmanship had not always been the best in France, but she found it just as easy to read as the morning newspaper. His scrawly handwriting brought a sense of nostalgia and comfort over her, and her heart rate began to pick up considerably.

"Mi amiga,

_Life has been simply mundane without you living next door. I remember, as a little boy, I always anticipated seeing your bright, smiling face after you returned from the morning walk. You and I had so many adventures together, and those adventures seem to have brought us closer together. I can not recall exactly when it happened, but I confess that those feelings you expressed to me in your letter are, without a doubt, mutual. You are possibly the most amazing person I have ever met – _muy magnifico. _ And even today you continue to fascinate me. I apologize that I do not have the time to write you a proper reply, but _dios mio,_ I want to see you again. Meet me at the bridge (you know the one) tonight at sunset, _por favor. _There is so much I have to explain, but I simply have to see you. All these years of separation have almost been too much to bear._

_Always,_

_Pepito_

_P.S. Try not to fall again."_

Madeline couldn't help but smile at the last sentence, remembering his bewildered child eyes when she had told him that story. She pressed the paper to her beating chest, and then looked over at the couch where the tired and arthritic Genevieve sat. The slightest of tears began to form in the redhead's eyes as she was swiftly at her companion's side, stroking her ear affectionately.

"Genevieve, he...he..." Madeline could not complete her sentence, but the old dog seemed to smile in that way she would, and looked at her with the look that told her she understood everything. Even in her old years, she was still the smartest dog in Paris.

Madeline carefully wrapped her arms around her friend, making sure not to crumple the beloved letter. Some tears brushed against the dog's fur, but these were tears of utmost happiness, and Madeline did not care.

(A/N: Whee! Stay tuned! ... Oh, Pete's sake, please never let me say that again.)


	4. Water Falls

(A/N: Sorry about long time, no update. I haven't had access to a computer for, like, the past week, so I haven't been able to write! So sorry! Anyway, the long anticipated Chapter Four!)

~Chapter Four~

Paris was usually such a nightlife city, especially by the river. There would be musicians and all sorts of cart merchants and too many boats to count always putted down the river.

But not tonight.

As far as the eye could see, everything had been tinted with a desolate blue under the moon. Boats were scarce tonight, there was really only one that Madeline had seen, and that was docked by the bank. (The captain and his skipper had made haste for the bar just a few blocks south.) There were no merchants or musicians that night – everything was eerily still. Too still for Madeline's tastes. They hadn't even turned the lamps on that night, so Madeline just sat on the bridge ledge in the dark.

She held the letter in her lap, subconsciously tracing circles against a corner with her fingers. Her head and back were supported against a lamp post that had been positioned on the ledge. She gazed out onto the still, silent water as she waited for her cheeks to dry. That was all now that kept her here. He told her to come at sunset, so sure enough, the moment the sky began to turn that familiar pink hue, Madeline was there with bells on. The only thing she had to do was wait.

And wait.

And _wait._

She promised herself she would stay until the sun dropped into the river, but two smaller springs overflowed before that. Madeline had never been the crybaby of her friends in school. In fact, she had been quite the opposite. But that was years ago, and as of recent she found it a strenuous task to keep her emotions in check. Everything had been a haven when she was a child. Not just Pepito, but Miss Clavel and her friends – the Old House. And that had all been stripped from her, one by one. The only haven she seemed to have left was Genevieve, and Lord knew, at her age, how long it would last. Nicole and Danielle were still taking classes, and Chloe was traveling all about Europe with a group of her musician friends. It seemed like Paris, which had once been considered one of the friendliest cities by the redhead, was now the loneliest.

At the twelve bells from the clock tower in the distance, Madeline threw in the towel, wiping her cheeks as she crossed the bridge at a snail's pace.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle_?_

Madeline was startled at the noise on such a quiet night, and spun around fast to find an older man in a trench coat and hat. Though he had only spoken three words, that was enough to bring her aware of his deep and articulate voice. English, perhaps?

"You wouldn't happen to be Madeline, would you?" he asked again.

It took the redhead a moment to get her bearings at the stranger's forwardness, but licked her lips nervously and said, "_Oui._"

"Oh, I'm so glad I found you," the man praised as he walked closer towards her. "You wouldn't believe how many girls in Paris have red hair."

Madeline was about to ask just why the mystery man was here, when he reached into his coat and pulled out an unmarked envelope.

"This is for you."

She kept turning her bewildered stare from him to the letter, before she eventually took it with shaking hands. The man held up a tutting finger that Madeline recognized (Miss Clavel would tut her all the time with that finger whenever she was being a nuisance).

"But you are only to read it when you get home."

"Only when I get home," Madeline repeated with a nod. She glanced again at the letter, and then back at him. "_Merci, monsieur._"

"My pleasure, miss Madeline," the man replied, tipping his hat towards her before making off into the night almost as silently as he had come. Madeline then made haste for her flat.

She _had _to read this letter.

(A/N: Ooh! Suspense! 0.0 ...Lord, I'm being cheesy today. BTW, the stranger man in this chapter? I was trying to imply that he is the narrator, but I don't think I did a very good job. - NERD)


End file.
